Life Lines
by theworldsedge
Summary: Four boys from four districts are selected to fight for their lives with only one survivor. As relationships form and secrets are revealed, how will they cope under the pressure to kill or be killed? Supernatural/Sherlock/Hunger Games crossover- A/N: No longer writing this until further notice.
1. Sherlock

**A little message to any pre-existing readers...**

I have made the decision to rewrite this story and changing the style from third to first person. I am most comfortable writing this way and I'm beginning to realise that is the best way to write this particular story. Therefore I have taken down the three chapters and am replacing them with new writing. There is new content so you're not reading the same writing, and personally I think it's so much more improved.

Thank you to those that have followed, favourited and reviewed. You're all appreciated so much! Now, let's begin with the story...

* * *

**Sherlock**

Reaping day. I never looked forward to this, it was such a tedious waste of my time. I had other things to be occupied with, things of more importance, such as trying to find out who had been involved in the latest spread of rumours against my family.

I lay on my bed, eyes closed and focusing on my deductions. Someone had suggested that my family were being given special treatments by the Capitol, and I was determined to find out who it could be. There was a woman in the market that I had seen a few days prior to the rumour. She had looked at me with distaste, though in hindsight I realised this may have been because my white cotton shirt had specks of blood on it from a time-consuming fight. It couldn't have been her. That did lead me to another speculation of whether it was the boy who fought me. He had mentioned words of my brother and Anthea, our district's escort for the tributes chosen. I was never one to defend Mycroft, but this particular occasion caught me in a bad mood. I won the fight.

"Come back to Panem, Sherlock."

I opened my eyes, staring at the ceiling above me. "Kyle Smith."

"What?"

I turned my head to see my older sibling standing in the doorway. He was leaning on a cane that he had been given as a gift from Anthea, his face scrutinizing my appearance. In return I copied his behaviour, noticing how he also wore a new tie and suit. His black shoes were freshly polished, his hair combed back upon his head neatly. Mycroft always wanted to look presentable, but today was different. I raised one corner of my mouth into a small smile.

"Are you planning on seeing your favourite escort today?"

Mycroft tilted his head dangerously, eyes widening as a warning for me to end my comments. "Must you be so irritating?"

"I learned from the best, brother dear."

Mycroft narrowed his eyes and shook his head slightly. "We need to be at the square in ten minutes, get your jacket on."

I stood up and walked over to the jacket that hung on the end of my bed. "Kyle Smith is the boy that spread the rumours."

At the revelation, Mycroft straightened his stance and said nothing. He considered my words and nodded before turning and exiting my room.

I put on my jacket and straightened it up before walking out of the room, adapting my new personality almost immediately. I had learned that radiating confidence intimidated people and it became a trait I so frequently portrayed. It stopped people thinking it necessary to talk to me, so I could deduce from afar.

In the front room of our house, my mother and father stood waiting. Mycroft was beside them, though he was clearly feeling impatient with his want to 'speak' with the boy who spread rumours.

My mother stared at me, taking in the sight. The reaping day always made her tense and overprotective of me, though I saw no need for those emotions. My father at her side had a hint of sadness to his face but a comforting arm around his wife.

"You look so smart," mother informed me with an upset smile.

"I am smart," I responded.

"You are intelligent," she said, walking to me and straightening the collar of the jacket I wore. "If you were smart, you would take care to fix your clothing so you look even more formal."

"I like the collar up," I frowned.

She smiled again and stepped back, her eyes not moving away from me. I drew my eyebrows together in confusion.

"I'm not going to be picked," I assured. "Somebody will volunteer as they always do here."

My mother nodded her head, then tore her gaze away to the door. "We should be going."

I internally groaned, following my parents to the door while Mycroft walked behind.

It was a short walk to the main square that the reaping took place. There were small sections of grass alongside the square, defining its shape in a way molded to appear aesthetically pleasing. I thought it looked hideously unnatural with a colour only slightly resembling the shade I had seen in green emeralds sold in the markets but mainly distributed to the Capitol.

As we reached the lottery draw, parents parted ways from their children and so did I. My mother planted a small kiss on the top of my brown, curly hair and walked away in silence with my father. Mycroft hung back with me for a few short seconds.

"There's no need to be scared, Sherlock."

"I'm not scared," I shot back. "I won't be picked."

"One shouldn't bury their emotions for the sake of reputation," Mycroft told me.

I pulled a face. "My so called 'reputation' hasn't contributed to my lack of anxiety."

"Hm," my older brother muttered before turning away and walking to my parents. "I will see you after the reaping, little brother."

I narrowed my eyes, glaring at Mycroft behind his back. He had been free of the reaping for three years while this was my fifth year enduring the raffle. While I wished I didn't have to spend time on attending the event as a possible contestant, I knew that I would still have to witness it as an onlooker when I reached adulthood.

I approached the queue of teenagers from my district, noticing how I blended in beneath the crowds. I wasn't short, but many of the older boys from the district looked as if they had been genetically altered to be more muscular and taller. I knew it wasn't a case of genes for the physical power they held over the younger people and many other districts, but simply that they had been trained for longer. I, on the other hand, relied on my brain to hold power. My brain had a higher functioning than everyone in the queue and the crowds, which was more important to me than any fighting skills.

The man sat at the small desk asked my name.

"Sherlock Holmes," I said.

He found my name and took my blood, printing it upon the page. I was then allowed to become another hidden face in the crowd of many, waiting in boredom to find out who would be chosen for the games.

A tapping on the stage hushed the talking crowd a few minutes later. Upon the raised platform, Anthea strutted across to the centre where a microphone stood.

"Happy Hunger Games," she grinned, her voice clear and elevated into a happy tone.

There were a few cheers from around the audience. Ridiculous.

The film that was shown annually played on a big screen, all eyes watching attentively except my own. Afterwards, Anthea spoke cheerfully as she went to pick the name for the female tribute. She faked her mood for the reaping every year. I knew she hated doing it, particularly in our district, but she only stayed in the job for fear of what could happen if she decided to quit. That wasn't really an option for the Capitol, she had implied.

"The female tribute for District One is," she began, unfolding the paper slip in her hand. "Kate Adams."

"I volunteer as tribute," a voice in the girl's audience said, sounding confident and calm.

A girl with light skin and her brown hair tied back into a smooth bun made her way onto the stage. She told her name to Anthea who looked almost overwhelmed with happiness.

"Irene Adler, everybody!"

People applauded. I narrowed my eyes in curiosity. Her reason for volunteering was clearly not pride and self confidence. I could see from the way her eyes found a face in the female audience that it was more than that.

The boys name was chosen next, the same procedure coming from Anthea.

"And our District One male is," she hesitated. "Sherlock Holmes."

I stared ahead, brain slowly processing what had been announced. I blinked quickly for a few seconds.

"Well?" Anthea didn't sound as excited as she had before, but still attempted to appear thrilled. "Come on up, Sherlock. Unless we have any volunteers?"

Nobody volunteered.

I stepped out of the crowd and made my way up onto the stage, soon back under my shelter of confidence. I stood beside the tribute that seemed older than me, feeling her eyes study my face briefly.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Anthea gestured to us. "The District One tributes."

I scanned the crowd. Male tributes were exchanging glances and words among themselves, perhaps discussing why they didn't volunteer themselves this year. I knew it was because of the opinions people had of my family, and I apparently didn't help myself when I insulted people. That's what Mycroft said.

My eyes fell on my family. My mother looked broken, my father shocked, and my brother disappointed.

**Why don't you leave a little review? Let me know what you want to happen in the story!**


	2. Dean

**Dean**

I slowed my breathing so it was undetectable, my green eyes focused on my target. Time was slow as I drew back the arrow in my control before releasing it. It soared through the distance ahead of me and landed into the body of a deer, making it panic temporarily then fall to the floor. A hard hand grasped my shoulder, shaking it slightly.

"Good job, son."

I fought the smile off my face when I walked forward to the prey. To me, killing the animal wasn't enjoyable because they were innocent, but survival was key and this was the only way we could. My dad's compliments to my hunting were rare so appreciated when I received them. I knew that I only got positive feedback today because it was the reaping in a few hours.

I plucked the arrow from the deer and slotted it back into the quiver after wiping the blood from it on the woodland grass. I then lifted the deer up onto my shoulders, carrying it over to where my dad stood waiting.

"We should be gettin' back to the house," he told. "We got an hour til the reaping."

My dad and I walked through the woods and back to the fence that we crossed to get out of the district. I knew some other people that did it too, all selling what they'd caught in the markets or to peacekeepers. It was a corrupt system, I couldn't deny that, but it was our best way of surviving so there wasn't choice.

We passed through the fence and headed home. The roads were silent except for some of the animals people kept. There were no children out having fun, no parents making their way to work. Just silence.

Dad opened the door to our small house and I went inside, laying out the deer in the corner ready to sell after the reaping. It was risky selling on reaping day but if we didn't, there'd be no food on the table that night.

I went into my bedroom and rooted through my clothes, finding a plain white shirt that was washed out in colour to look almost grey and some black trousers to wear too. I hated whoever decided we should look nice to the draw but it was my last year so I wouldn't need to complain any more after this. My nineteenth birthday was a day I looked forward to since I turned twelve.

I changed into the outfit and ran my hand through my hair. I doubted I looked very good, but it didn't matter much to me. How I dressed didn't matter to most of-

There was a knock at the window.

I rolled my eyes and walked over, knowing the source immediately. I opened the shutters and was greeted by a familiar face, then I lifted up the window to speak.

"We have a front door."

"I'm not meant to be out," the younger boy said. "My mom will scream if she knows I'm here."

"Go home, Garth."

"Dean!" He panicked, slamming his hands on the shutters that I was about to close.

"My dad won't be happy if I'm not out of this room in two minutes, so what is it?"

"I... I came to ask whether you had any more of those plants? The ones that stopped fever."

I sighed and nodded my head. My dad and I helped out with Garth's family a lot. Our dads were both coal miners, but his had stopped a week ago because of illness he'd caught. Garth wouldn't go into the woods, his parents wouldn't allow it, so I'd been picking some plants there to help reduce the symptoms his dad had.

I went over to my bag and took out a handful of the plant before taking it over to my younger friend. "Don't forget to crush it all down before he eats it, it'll let him digest it quicker."

"Thanks, Dean. I owe you."

"Yeah," I muttered. "Whatever, Garth. Now get lost, I'll see you later."

Garth gave a friendly smile before running away to his own house. I closed the window and left the shutters open, took a deep breath and went to attend the reaping with my father.

* * *

District twelve was one of the poorest districts. You could tell by just looking at its appearance and the people within it. The biggest people here were the peacekeepers. Everyone else was unhealthy and thin. Most of the men that worked in the coal mines had muscular bodies from all of the work and anyone who hunted in the woods had some too, but the elderly people or those who were tired often had skin that looked like it could rip easily, with bags under their eyes and their bones prominent on their bodies.

"I'll see you after to sell that deer, okay?" Dad said, his face stern.

I knew the day wasn't easy on him. Being a single parent with the risk of losing your only child to the Capitol's games wasn't easy on anyone.

"Yeah," I replied, nodding my head.

He turned and walked away, noticing Garth's parents in the crowd. I went to the queue to register and saw Garth at the back looking nervous. He still had four years left of this.

"You doin' okay?" I asked.

The small boy turned and nodded. "I'll be fine, I just want this over. And you?"

"Same."

He turned back and we registered before joining the other boys. Garth stood beside me, his face straight but eyes giving away all of his emotion. He was petrified.

It wasn't worth speaking any comfort to him, since there was no real comfort in the reaping. There was always the brief moment of relief when the name was read out and it wasn't your own, but that wasn't the case with two people in the crowd each year.

When the escort for our district walked on stage, she greeted everyone with the same comment as every year.

"Happy Hunger Games!" I mimed to Garth while Effie Trinket also spoke in her excited tone. He let out a small snort of laughter while a peacekeeper nearby glared at us.

We watched the film and we waited while the girl was picked. This year it was a young kid. Her name was Molly, twelve years old. I'd seen her around before, working with her mom as a healer in the eastern side of the district. She had light hair and a pale face with eyes in so much shock that she looked like the deer I shot earlier when the arrow pierced its skin. I figured this was probably a similar feeling.

"And now for the boys!" Effie smiled, picking out the name from the glass bowl.

"Dean Winchester!"

Garth's eyes had snapped to me and I looked down at him in sadness. This meant I wouldn't be able to get the plants to help his dad. I wouldn't be able to sell that deer with my dad. I probably wouldn't even come home again.

Garth searched my eyes before he seemed to go to speak. I slammed a hand over his mouth, knowing he was going to volunteer.

"No."

"Come on up!" Effie said at the front stage.

"Find me afterwards," I told the young boy.

I stepped out of the crowd, walking slowly to the front stage. All eyes of other teenagers lingered on me. I went up the steps and joined at Molly's side. In the crowd, a hand shot up with their fingers formed in a group of three. I saw the owner as Garth. I hoped he wouldn't get punished for that. Soon, all other hands followed the gesture. I looked down to Molly who had eyes filled with tears, and then we joined the hand gesture to the crowd, marking our unity as a district.


	3. John

**John**

In District Seven, the atmosphere was cold and quiet during the time of the reaping. I stood looking into the mirror in my home near the centre of the district, combing my light brown hair back into a neat style. Appearance was meant to be nice for the reaping, and it was the only day I bothered to put an effort into how I looked.

"Are you ready?" A soft voice asked.

I met eyes through the mirror to my sister that stood behind me, leaning on the opposite wall.

"As ready as I can be," I answered, forcing a small smile to comfort her.

"The final reaping," she mumbled. "Thank God."

"It doesn't mean I'm safe," I replied.

"You'd better be," she rubbed her arm. Her pale face looked tired, her brown hair falling on her shoulders. "I can't lose anyone else, John."

"I know."

I did understand what she meant. We had lost everyone except each other, though only once through the games.

"My name is in there eleven times, Harriet," I sighed. I couldn't lie to her about not being safe, my chances of being picked were extremely high.

The reaping worked so that each year, your name went in there more. I had also taken tesserae, which meant that the amount increased further. I knew there were people who had their name in there more or less than I did, but it all depended on who was lucky enough when the escort selected the paper.

"There are a lot of other kids out there," Harriet whispered after a long minute. "Maybe one of them-"

"Yeah, maybe one of them will get reaped. But what if they don't? And would it really make the situation any better?"

Harriet shook her head a bit, closing her eyes.

"John, please don't get picked. Mum, dad, Clara..."

"Believe me, if I can avoid it then I will."

Harriet gave a little nod of her head.

I brushed my shirt and trousers down with my hands, cursing the hair that coated it.

"Who decided that cat was a good idea?" I wondered out loud, more so to change the topic away from the dead family we had.

"You got me it," Harriet let out a small giggle. "Cleo is a good cat, don't be mean to her."

"She's an extra mouth to feed, more like," I chuckled as the black and white creature wound itself around my older sister's legs, purring lightly.

Harriet crouched and picked up the young cat in her arms, petting its head before holding it out to me. "She loves you, look at her!"

I pulled a face as the cat hissed and threatened me with its claws.

"I've always had a preference for dogs."

Harriet rolled her eyes and placed Cleo back onto the floor before looking to the clock. I followed her eyes and sighed, noticing that it was time to leave the house and go to the reaping.

We walked out of the small house together, going to the square.

* * *

When we reached the other children, Harriet and I exchanged a brief eye contact before parting ways without more words. It was our unwritten and unspoken rule that we wouldn't share any words with one another when it was time to split ways for the reaping. In a way, it was because a goodbye would suggest that we wouldn't see each other again. On the other hand, I figured it was because we had made enough goodbyes with people and never saw them again. The reaping was a terrible day for Harriet. It filled her with feelings of regret and sadness for losing Clara a short while back.

I registered and stood with the other boys. The vibrant orange haired escort paraded to the microphone, a bright smile plastered on her pale face. She actually looked like plastic since her expression didn't seem to falter at all and her makeup was so brightly coloured that it looked like paint.

Kitty Riley was the escort that desperately tried to make her way to work in the career districts rather than our middle class one. She had no success for years, stuck with Seven for the majority of my years attending the reaping.

Her heels tapped on the stage, impatiently waiting while the teenagers stopped speaking, her yellow eyebrows raising to an unnatural height.

"I'm so excited for these games!" She grinned, snapping her hands together. "I wonder whether we will have any volunteers this year?"

The crowd didn't respond, leaving her to think privately. No volunteers yet then.

"First and most importantly, we will watch the film of why we have the Games," she stated, then stepped aside slightly to make turn our heads to the screen.

The same video was played as every year. I hated it, so kept my gaze facing other directions to avoid it. I didn't care for the glorification of death.

As usual, it was 'ladies first'. The name was Meg Masters, a fifteen year old girl that I had seen around the district before. The black-haired girl made her way up onto the stage with a neutral expression on her face. I felt a sadness fill me, the same I felt every year. It was so horrible to see children be sent to their deaths. There was no sound from the audience as we waited.

The boy's name followed, and my heart stopped when it was announced.

It was me.

* * *

Peacekeepers led me into a room where I took a seat to calm down in silence. I pretended to be strong on stage, but now I could feel the pain creep up. I had to stay strong. I had to do that for my sister. I held my hands together tightly, biting my lip so hard that it bled.

The door flew open and there stood my sister.

"John," she said, her eyes filling with salty tears.

"I'm sorry," I apologised at a loss of what to say, my voice cracking.

Harriet walked forward and I stood as we embraced in a long and silent hug.

"I fucking hate the Capitol," Harriet mumbled. "They're taking everyone from me."

My eyes glossed with tears that I desperately wanted to hide. I couldn't speak with the lump in my throat, so instead just let out a small croak.

"Promise me you'll come back," Harriet demanded. "Promise me."

"I'll try-"

"No, John. Trying isn't good enough," she released me from the hug and stared into my hazel eyes. "Promise."

I stared into her eyes. I saw my mother in them, looking back at me with an upset expression. In Harriet's light hair I saw my father. They both would have been telling me to come back.

Harriet needed me more than anything. I knew that I needed to come back from the arena to make sure she was okay. Her health wasn't the best, she was jobless and we struggled for money. If I won the games, our lives would be so much better...

A peacekeeper entered the room. "Time's up."

I hugged my sister quickly. "I promise."

The man took Harriet away, leaving me alone in the large room. There was nobody else for me to say goodbye to, so I sat and waited for the peacekeepers to take me to the Capitol. I covered my eyes with my hands, finally letting my emotion loose while I sobbed.

* * *

**A/N: Thank you all so much for the follows, favourites and reviews. They really encourage me to write knowing people are actually reading. x**


	4. Sam

**Sam**

I walked with my mom towards the groups of other people my age that were registering and waiting for the reaping to start. I hated reaping day.

I looked at my mom with worried eyes. She smiled at me warmly in reassurance.

"You'll be okay, Sam."

I didn't respond because I wasn't given a chance to when two friends arrived in front of us and the conversation changed.

"Hey," Ellen greeted, a forced but bright smile on her face. I appreciated how she always tried to make sure we were okay.

"Hello," my mom replied to her friend.

I glanced at the blonde girl that stood at Ellen's side and smiled at her which was returned. I had known Ellen and her daughter, Jo, for as long as I could remember. My mom and Ellen had been good friends since before I was born and remained that way for many years. They had been through a lot together, I knew that. I was alive for some of it. I didn't remember the house fire because I was just a baby when it happened. My mom had a constant reminder of the day through the large burn that scarred the light skin across her hands and arms. Ellen cared for both me and my mom after the fire, offering a house to us until we could get another one. In return, my mom helped out with them after Ellen's husband died. It was only small things like cleaning the house and providing food, but they were both so important to the citizens of Panem. I walked with Jo to school ever since then, and we'd become good friends.

"How are you doin', Sam?" Ellen asked me.

I shrugged. "I guess I'm as good as I can be today."

She looked at her own daughter with sadness in her eyes. To my mom and Ellen, reaping day could be the day they lose their only remaining family. I didn't want to think about what would happen to either of them if one of us was picked.

"You better get going over to join the others," Mom said, putting a delicate hand on my shoulder.

I nodded miserably.

"Hey, now, it'll be okay," she comforted. "Go on."

"See you kids after," Ellen assured Jo and I before we parted to register and become a part of the crowds.

Jo and I couldn't stand together after we had registered because males and females were separated during the name selection for an easier distinction and a clearer path.

"Meet back where we were," I told Jo. "See you in half an hour."

The girl nodded before moving away. "Yeah, see ya, Sam."

* * *

After watching the film that I now knew the words to by memory, the escort had to choose the names. I felt like he got a sense of excitement and pride by sentencing children to their potential deaths.

Crowley picked the male name first. Lots of districts had the female name before the male, but Crowley seemed to want to do things by his own rules.

My eyes were fixed on the white slip of paper that was snapped open by the man's hands. Crowley read the name once to himself then addressed the male side of the audience.

"Samuel Campbell!"

I think my mouth might have dropped open when I heard the words. I knew my heart rate picked up speed as I turned my head in a search for my mom's face. I couldn't see her as peacekeepers grabbed my arms and began to force me onto the stage while I frantically span my head around. I needed my mom.

"How old are you?" Crowley wondered out loud.

I stopped searching the crowd, realising I was now stood on the stage beside the escort. I turned my face to him and almost spat out my answer.

"Fourteen."

"You're tall for your age," he observed.

I raised my eyebrows in confusion at the unusual comment.

The escort shrugged. "Could be a benefit in the arena. Anyway, now for the girls."

While he was occupied reading out the name of the female tribute, I resumed my task of trying to spot my mom. My eyes soon landed on her, but she suddenly wasn't looking in my direction and was wrapping her arms around Ellen. Why was Ellen crying? She seemed just as upset as my mom...

That was when I returned from my thoughts and found another person stood beside me.

"Jo..." I muttered, meeting my friend's frightened eyes.

* * *

Crowley and some peacekeepers took Jo and myself to different rooms where we would get to say goodbye to our families.

The room was big, with plain white walls and a wooden panelled floor, it's only furnishing being a red sofa and a bowl of fruit sat upon a small table.

When the door opened to the room, my mom walked in with her face stained by tears. I wrapped my arms around her and she did the same to me while we stood in silence for long seconds.

"I'm sorry, Sam," she whispered. "I said it would be okay."

"That's not your fault, mom."

She let out a small sob, her arms tightening around me like she never wanted to let go of me.

"I hoped that we would get out of this district one day," she began to ramble. "I thought we could escape this and be with-"

"Your time is up now," a peacekeeper informed, barging into the room and starting to drag my mother away.

"No, mom!" I cried out, fighting to get her back. I couldn't leave her behind with only Ellen.

"Don't let them control you, Sam!"

The door slammed shut, leaving me with watery eyes to reflect on my mom's goodbye. Don't let them control you. What did that mean?

When the door opened again, I was greeted by Ellen's sad face. She gave me a broken smile before giving me a small hug.

"What did we do to deserve this?" She sighed.

"I'll keep her safe as long as I can, Ellen," I decided. "Jo is gonna be protected for all the time I'm alive."

Ellen seemed to calm at my words temporarily before suddenly having an explosion of anger within her.

"You shouldn't need to protect her," she hissed, though her anger wasn't directed at me. Instead, she was talking in the direction of the door. "It's because of the Capitol that this is happening."

"It'll... it'll be okay, Ellen."

She covered her eyes with her hands in frustration. "Thank you, Sam. I'll make sure your mom is coping too."

I gave her a little smile before the peacekeeper came to take her away, too. When the door shut this time around, I knew it would be the final time I'd see my mom or Ellen. I knew I wouldn't get to see the things I ever wanted or discover the answers I wanted out of my life. Then I was taken away to the train.

* * *

**Poor Sammy. I kind of struggled writing Sam, so I hope it's good enough for you lovely readers. **

**Thank you for the kind reviews, follows and favourites. You're all wonderful! **


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